The Secret of the Sheikh's Betrothed

by Felicitas Ivey

  “And what would you do?” Sabah cried. “Have Mother marry you off to Ghalib instead of me? You know what will happen.”

  “But you would be safe from him,” Ikraam pointed out. To Fathi, she explained, “I’m worried about how Sabah will be treated. Ghalib broke his horse’s spirit so cruelly, and he would do the same to a wife.”

  “And your body would be left for the beasts when he was done beating you,” Sabah snapped. She turned to Fathi. “I had no idea she would ask this.”

  Fathi looked at the two of them. “You can both leave here now, and I’ll take care of you. We don’t even have to get married.”

  “Your offer is kind,” Ikraam said. “But what would we do?”

  Fathi looked at her. “We’ll do something. I’m willing to be responsible for the both of you even if we don’t get married.”

  “I don’t want to impose on you,” Ikraam said. She turned to Sabah. “And I can defend myself.”

  “Against more than one man?” Sabah said. “You know—”

  Fathi was reminded of Rayyan and him fighting. These two were siblings, no matter if Sabah was Ikraam’s niece.

  “If you want, I’ll take you out of here,” he said. “I don’t care what the fallout would be from this. You’re both in trouble, and I want to help you.”

  Ikraam looked at him calculatingly before removing her veil again. Even with that ugly bruise, he thought she was beautiful. Her skin was pale and smooth and her eyes large and expressive, looking at him with a mixture of defiance and fear. Fathi stared, mesmerized, wanting to kiss her, to banish the look in her eyes. He was amazed Ikraam had done something so bold, so shameless, as to show him her face. He doubted even Hashim had seen her like this, and he hated he was so aroused by such a simple action.

  “Would you be so quick to offer Sabah and me shelter if you knew I was a man?” Ikraam asked, deepening her voice. “I can show you the truth of my words.”

  “Ikraam!” Sabah hissed. “You don’t have to throw away your life to protect me!”

  Fathi stood up, staring at her—him in shock. “I’m leaving now.”

  Ikraam stood up also, his eyes challenging. “What are you going to tell your grandfather?”

  “I don’t know,” Fathi said. Ikraam opened his mouth, but Fathi held up his hand. “Don’t. I’m not going to deal with this now.”

  “I apologize to you and your grandfather for the trick my sister has played on you,” Ikraam said, bowing his head. “I was weak to let her continue it for so long.”

  Fathi didn’t say anything, but he pushed by Ikraam and Sabah and walked out the front door of the harem in furious silence.

  Chapter Twelve

  “YOU didn’t have to do that!” Sabah exclaimed when the door slammed shut behind Fathi.

  “Go wash your hands,” Ikraam ordered. “Your mother should be here soon.”

  “And what are you going to tell her?” Sabah asked, not moving. “You confessed her charade at last? And the groom did the sensible thing and walked out on you? That he didn’t beat you for her sins? That whatever she had planned isn’t going to happen?”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to tell Bahiyya.” Ikraam sighed. “But please just wash your hands and face. I might be able to salvage this mess if it doesn’t look like you ate anything. In fact, stay hidden in our room, no matter what you hear. Pretend to be asleep.”

  He was touched Fathi had thought of them… him like this. And Ikraam wasn’t too proud to admit he had spent a large part of the day fantasizing about Fathi. He had barely gotten any weaving done, since he’d been so preoccupied with his thoughts. He would have been blushing most of the day, except most of his blood seemed to have pooled in another part of his body. Ikraam was grateful Sabah hadn’t noticed.

  “What do you think Mother is going to do?” Sabah asked, even as she hurried to the bathing room.

  “It depends on how angry she is when she arrives,” Ikraam said. “Lock the door if you can and don’t open it to anyone but me.”

  Sabah looked at him in horror but obediently went to wash up and hide in their room. Ikraam sighed when he looked down at the delicate cakes and pastries, the fresh fruit. Fathi had set out the food, arranging it artfully. The glasses the cider was in were beautiful and delicate. Ikraam hoped Bahiyya didn’t break them in her anger. Ikraam picked them up and put them out of sight, along with the bottle of cider, to protect them. He then checked to see that his veil was fastened securely and hoped he and Sabah got out of this unscathed. He doubted that, since he had never escaped Bahiyya’s wrath before. But he felt better just telling Fathi of her… and his deception. Even though he only wanted to protect Sabah, it had been cowardice not to tell Fathi he was a man the first night. He had been weak and had allowed himself to hope he might be able to have a relationship with Fathi before it inevitably fell apart.

  Ikraam walked back in the room to see Bahiyya standing over the food, her body tense with anger, her face twisted unbecomingly. Ikraam was amazed she had left Hashim’s room without veiling, but this wing was empty, with only the family in it. She wouldn’t have to worry about meeting a man who wasn’t of her family, since it was obvious Bahiyya considered Ghalib as her son-by-marriage, even if there had been no ceremony.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Bahiyya demanded, pointing at the food.

  “Sabah had retired with a headache. I was in the bathing room,” Ikraam started, knowing he couldn’t tell her the truth. “When I returned to do some more weaving, Lamis was out here with the food arranged as you see it.” Ikraam paused. Bahiyya was furious, and he had to handle this carefully. “I thanked her for her service. There was no man here.”

  “Do you think me a fool?” Bahiyya screeched. “We are alone in this fortress with your betrothed’s family. It was the fool we’re marrying you off to who was in here!”

  “There was no man,” Ikraam murmured.

  “Don’t be more foolish than you already are,” Bahiyya hissed. “I know Fathi al-Murzim was in here. What did you say to him?”

  “There was no man,” Ikraam repeated. “It isn’t proper for an unchaperoned woman to meet with a man who isn’t family.”

  “If you were a real woman…,” Bahiyya snapped.

  “My intended thinks I am,” Ikraam lied, looking her straight in the eye. “And Lamis was the one who brought the food.”

  “Then why did she leave by slamming the door?” Bahiyya asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ikraam said.

  “If I snatch that veil off your lying lips, would I find them kiss swollen?” Bahiyya asked, stalking closer to her. Ikraam was thankful she skirted the food rather than destroying it. “Did you act the slut and he left when he had a taste of you?”

  She reached out and snatched at his veil, Bahiyya’s nails scratching his face. Ikraam gasped in pain, since it was where she had slapped him earlier. His veil came off with the tearing of fabric, and Bahiyya tossed it aside.

  Ikraam stepped back and looked at her. “If I had admitted to him who I really was, do you think a slammed door would be the only reaction?” he asked calmly, even though his heart was racing. He never could lie convincingly or Bahiyya had a sense when there was someone near him who wasn’t supposed to be. “There would be shouting, and the amir would be here also.” Bahiyya didn’t look like she believed him. Ikraam started babbling, not caring about the words coming out of his mouth or even knowing if they made any sense. “All right, there was an uninvited man in the harem, and it was the sheikh. He left the way he did to get the reaction he did from you. The man wanted me to get in trouble. I think he did so to get the betrothal invalidated. The sheikh might not have been happy to find out he was betrothed. This would be the easiest way for him to break it.”

  “You’re marrying Sheikh Fathi al-Murzim, if I have to drug you with poppy flowers and say the vows myself,” Bahiyya snarled, slapping him again. Ikraam rocked back from the blow. Bahiyya smirked before she ordered him, “Now gather up t
he food and take it to Hashim for me.”

  “May I have another veil?” Ikraam asked. He felt exposed and raw. Bahiyya was being sadistic to do this, and he didn’t have the reserves to deal with whatever game she was playing.

  “No!”

  “Your husband has never seen me unveiled since I was six,” Ikraam pleaded. “It wouldn’t be proper.”

  “This from the hoyden who ran wild away from the tents at night,” Bahiyya taunted him. “I would have stopped it, but all you were doing was seeing that damned cat. Plus even when doing so, you were veiled like a proper woman.”

  Ikraam said nothing, too tired to continue to argue with her. He bent down to gather up the food and packaged it carefully even though he wanted to tell her no. Fathi had brought this for him and Sabah, not his greedy camel-dropping brother-by-marriage.

  Ikraam was silent as he followed Bahiyya into the room she was sharing with her husband. He kept his face down, his eyes on the floor. He felt defeated and weak, because he should have fought with her about it. He hated those feelings and hated Bahiyya was forcing him to do this. He was a second from dropping the food and using one of the towels it was wrapped in as his veil.

  Ikraam set his burden on the nearest table, which unfortunately was in the middle of the room. He didn’t look up to see who else was in there. He just wanted to go back to the harem and collapse. He had to think about what he had done and make plans to escape if he needed to. What would Fathi’s reaction be when he had time to think? Fathi hadn’t shown his disgust immediately, but his anger might triple when he had a chance to think about Ikraam’s words. Ikraam had gambled and probably lost, throwing away any chance at Sabah’s safety.

  “Isn’t she a pretty one,” Ikraam heard Ghalib say.

  He jerked back and looked up, trying to shield his face with his sleeve. All he managed to do was knock everything on the floor. Ikraam didn’t need to be a seer to know Bahiyya would be furious at the mess. He knew he should clean it up, but all he wanted to do now was get away from Ghalib. He had left his knife in the harem, due to his fear of Bahiyya clouding his judgment. He should have remembered Ghalib would be here and taken precautions.

  “You have grown to be quite a beauty,” Hashim added.

  Ikraam stepped back and bumped into Bahiyya, who pushed him forward. He stumbled, off-balance, and fell to his knees.

  “My poor sister has been indiscreet by entertaining a visitor to the harem. I’m sure it was her intended, leaving ever so nicely when she asked,” Bahiyya said sarcastically.

  “Just let me go back,” Ikraam whispered, bowing his head, with his arms still in front of his face. It didn’t mean he was unaware of where everyone else was in the room. Bahiyya was behind him, Hashim off to his left side, far away from him and sitting down, while Ghalib was on his right and too close for comfort. He wrinkled his nose. The man smelled like he hadn’t bathed since he had arrived here. Combined with the smell of the food, it turned Ikraam’s stomach. “I don’t know why you’re angry with me.”

  “Go back to a place where strange men wander in and out?” Bahiyya cooed. “That doesn’t sound like a very good place for a proper young lady like yourself.”

  “I should go and protect my bride,” Ghalib said, his voice lustful.

  Ikraam wondered who would protect Sabah from Ghalib, and knew he had to get out of there before there was trouble. He was grateful his thawb was loose enough to hide the knife he carried to deal with weaving issues. It was small but sharp, and he would use it to get out of the room, if he had to. Ikraam cursed that the room didn’t have an exit onto the balcony and the door was behind him. But if he had to go through Bahiyya to leave, he would.

  Ikraam reached into the pocket in his thawb for his knife. He grasped it and then slid the sheath off of it while it was still in his pocket. The blade was barely more than two finger widths in length, but it would sting and was an unexpected weapon. It would give him an advantage, which he needed right now.

  “You should have told me your sister was so pretty,” Ghalib said, coming closer to Ikraam. “And a proper maiden if she’s hiding her face from family. Why haven’t you married her off before this?”

  “You wouldn’t believe what Ikraam is,” Bahiyya said.

  “I should see, then,” Ghalib said.

  “Don’t touch me,” Ikraam growled, his voice dropping to its true sound. He had adopted a soft murmur when he spoke, after he had gone through his growth spurt and his voice had deepened. “I don’t want you to touch me.”

  “Her husband’s going to find her a handful,” Ghalib said, amused. “I don’t think he’s going to be able to handle her.”

  “Bahiyya,” Ikraam gasped, wondering why she was allowing this. Hashim wouldn’t do anything, and as much as he hated asking, Bahiyya was his only protection here. “This isn’t right.”

  “I might be able to offer my daughter to the amir instead,” Bahiyya said. “If you marry my sister, you wouldn’t have to wait for the joys of the marriage bed. Sabah is still a bit too young.”

  Ghalib chuckled threateningly, and Ikraam swallowed hard. He didn’t think the man had been planning on waiting for the marriage to begin tormenting Sabah. She would have been broken and discarded long before the marriage took place.

  “She’s pretty,” Hashim said vaguely. “And biddable.”

  “She doesn’t seem biddable now,” Ghalib snapped. “But I can make her so.”

  Ikraam gripped his knife tighter since he didn’t like what was happening right now. Ghalib moved closer to him, reaching out for him.

  “Don’t touch me,” Ikraam repeated, wishing there wasn’t a quiver in his voice.

  He didn’t want to be touched, and that was all that should matter. Why didn’t anyone pay attention to what he wanted? Fathi had, but then he had also walked out on him when he had told the truth.

  Ghalib reached out to grab Ikraam’s chest. Ikraam was shocked, but reacted before Ghalib could find out there wasn’t anything to grab. He slipped his hand out of his pocket and slashed at Ghalib’s arm, slicing it neatly. Then he lunged to his feet and started running. He was out of the door before anyone could react to Ghalib’s startled bellow of pain. Ikraam dashed to the right, cursing the need for his eyes to adjust to the darkness outside. He ran down the inner balcony and away from the harem, he hoped. It took a couple of seconds and frantic blinking before his eyes adjusted.

  Ikraam slid into the shadows, not surprised to see Ghalib lumbering out of the door he just left, holding his arm. Ikraam took a deep breath and ran to a set of stairs he saw that led to the first floor. There were plenty of places for him to hide down there until he could think of what to do. Find the amir was his main thought, but he didn’t know where the man could be.

  Ikraam ran down the stairs, then paused at the bottom to see where Ghalib was. He started running again when he saw the man starting toward the stairs he had just come down. He wouldn’t be able to do anything if Ghalib caught him! He had to find someplace to hide and fast. Ikraam spied a dark corner on the other side of the inner courtyard and made his way over there.

  Chapter Thirteen

  FATHI was shaking when he got to his room. He wasn’t happy to see Rayyan there. He didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. Ikraam was a man! He didn’t know how or why, but he knew Ikraam hadn’t been lying when he’d confessed his true nature.

  “You’re back early,” Rayyan said as he put aside the book he had been reading.

  “Something unexpected happened,” Fathi said.

  “Unexpected?” Rayyan echoed, looking at him.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Fathi snapped. “I’m tired and want to get some rest. I’ll tell you about it later, if you want to gossip like an old woman.”

  He knew he sounded insulting, but if Rayyan pressed him for information, he would tell him everything—from Ikraam’s cross-dressing to Bahiyya’s abuse and Sabah’s fear of Ghalib—and it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about now. He h
ad to figure out if he wanted to go along with Ikraam’s lie. It would make both their lives easier if he did. But did he want that? He was suddenly sick of denying who he was. He was certain Ikraam was too. They could figure out a solution to this mess and present it to Grandfather. Then he could stop dreaming of Ikraam and get her—him out of his life.

  “You’re in a foul mood,” Rayyan said.

  Fathi wanted to shout at him. I just found out the woman I am supposed to marry is a man. That would put anyone out! But he just glared at him.

  Rayyan grinned. “Sharing your problems isn’t gossiping, but I’ll leave you alone.”

  He got up and walked toward the door. He had his hand on the knob as he said, “Whatever happened, you can work it out.”

  Fathi just looked at him, because Rayyan was trying to find out what had upset him. He wasn’t ready to talk about it. Fathi just waved at Rayyan to leave, and Rayyan finally took the hint he didn’t want to tell him, and left.

  Fathi started to walk around the room, wondering what he was going to do. This was a situation to the marriage problem he hadn’t seen coming. However, it would only work if Ikraam was gay. Was he? Would he be interested in a physical relationship with Fathi? Was he insane for thinking this could work out? What he should do was tell Grandfather about the fraud Bahiyya was inflicting on them. Because from what he had seen, Hashim was as in the dark about Ikraam’s true sex as the rest of them. Or the man was smarter than he appeared to be.

  Fathi stopped pacing for a minute to admire the daring of Bahiyya’s plan. He didn’t approve of it or the ambition she had had to do so, but she had hidden Ikraam’s true nature for over twenty years. Women living a separate life from men in the tribes helped. That the clothing was fairly unisex and loose was a plus, and small logistics like shaving could be hidden by the veil. However, that she had stolen her brother’s life as chief of the tribe for her own ambition was heinous, and she needed to be exposed and punished for what she had done.